


Restrictions Apply

by thedevianthunter



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Reader Insert, Wooing, birthday fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-02
Updated: 2018-12-02
Packaged: 2019-09-05 12:59:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16811113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedevianthunter/pseuds/thedevianthunter
Summary: You try to win over Captain Allen on his birthday. Key word: try.





	Restrictions Apply

“I don’t care.”

His voice is dismissive and firm, and you’re a little peeved that he doesn’t even bother to look in your general direction but regardless, you press on.

“David,” you insist, just as stubborn but less composed. Eyebrows furrowed in obvious annoyance at your pestering, he finally lifts his head so you can clearly see the scowl on his face.

“There’s nothing to celebrate,” he states dryly and once again you have to remind yourself that you sort of love this asshole and _no_ , you are not letting up.

“It’s your _birthday_.”

“And?”

“For _fuck’s_ sake. Why can’t you let me do something nice for you for once?”

His lips twitch upwards as though he’s trying to stop himself from smiling. Sighing, he slumps forward, resting his elbows on the desk and rubbing a hand over his eyes. “I appreciate the sentiment, but if you want to do something nice for me, then maybe head back to your station and actually do some work, hmm?”

You only have so much patience.

With an irritated huff, you spin on your heel and march out of his office. If he wants to be a dick then _fine_. He can celebrate his birthday on his own.

It’s not like you care.

* * *

That’s a lie.

You care _too much_ is the problem.

Captain Allen may be an asshole, sure, but with the job he has, he can’t afford to _not_ be an asshole. A meek SWAT captain won’t really amount to much, and Allen is anything but meek.

Part of you wonders if you’re being too pushy, the last thing you want if you’re trying to woo the abrasive man. But if you back off, then he’ll once again spend his birthday alone like he has the past few years.

From what you understand, Allen has adopted a nihilistic mindset when it comes to birthdays; according to him, there’s no point celebrating them when he can very well die the next day, especially in his line of work. The thought of losing him causes you to shudder and leaves you twice as determined to finally make your move.

You don’t think you can go the rest of your life wondering what _might_ have been, after all.

With that in mind, you square your shoulders and begin planning. There’s only half an hour left until you can go home, and you’ve pretty much finished all the work you need to for the day. You’ve already gathered the necessary information from some of the other SWAT operatives—Allen has a fondness for double chocolate cake, for one—and you’re certain that this birthday will be one to remember despite Allen’s insistence that it doesn’t matter.

 _He_ matters and you promise yourself to make that clear to him tomorrow.

* * *

Captain Allen is a practical man who only keeps the very essentials. Whereas most people’s offices are filled with small knick-knacks, Allen’s is almost completely devoid of any personal touch.

This makes figuring out what present to get him damn near impossible. What can you possibly gift a man who doesn’t already own everything that he needs?

Though you have no idea what to get him, you consider yourself pretty good friends with Allen. You’re on first-name basis with the man, which says an awful lot considering how professional he normally is. The two of you have also had some… _interesting_ interactions every now and then at functions, but you blame that on the booze. _Sober_ Allen has never approached you flirtingly, at any rate.

You’re really going out on a limb here. You can’t tell for certain if Allen is even interested in you in that way, but like you rationalized earlier, it’ll hurt more to leave these things unsaid.

If Allen rejects you, then that’s that. You’ll be embarrassed for a few days and the two of you will likely stop speaking to each other as often, but otherwise you’re not losing _too_ much. Besides, you’re both perfectly grown adults; it’ll only be awkward if you make it so.

Alright, enough of that. You still don’t know what present to get him.

What do men like him even want?

Clothes? A fancy new pen? Expensive whiskey?

You have no fucking idea.

Vaguely, a tiny voice in your head suggests, _you_.

Maybe wear a lil’ somethin’-somethin’ underneath your uniform and surprise him in his office…?

Scoffing at _that_ particular image, you mentally kick yourself.

Not only is that _too fucking forward_ , he’s probably going to report you for misconduct the second you start stripping. No way in _hell_ are you doing that.

Unless he’s into it, of course, but that’s not something you can tell since _you don’t even know what he wants._

If you text him to ask, he’ll probably just tell you to fuck off and worry about yourself. You can’t be discreet either because there’s no way to subtly ask him about his interests the day before his damn birthday.

In all honesty, you blame yourself for not figuring out when his birthday is sooner.

Although, would knowing a few days beforehand truly help in this case?

Probably not.

* * *

The next morning, you arrive early to drop off some personalized birthday donuts that you called in the previous evening to have made. Since his office is locked, you leave the pink box in front of the door before heading back to Homicide. You don’t write a note mainly because you don’t want him coming after you quite yet, but a part of you fully expects him to figure it out anyway.

_Donuts. Check._

You’ll pick up his birthday cake during your lunch break. You’ve already talked to the guys upstairs about singing to Allen, something they’re more than willing to do despite that risk of casualties involved.

As for his present…

Yes, alright, maybe a printed out gift voucher for one date with you may be a little cheesy. Most people usually give gift cards, and then there’s you, essentially offering Allen a coupon that he can only redeem from your sorry ass. 

It’s just _slightly_ embarrassing.

If anything, you should be relieved; it makes asking him out much easier because he can simply rip the voucher into pieces if he really hates the idea that much.

Will that be extremely humiliating?

Yeah, no shit.

But will it save you from having to actually _hear_ him reject you?

Also yes.

In the midst of your daydreaming, you don’t notice the man of the hour approaching you until he kicks the bottom of your chair to get your attention. Eyes wide, you swivel in your seat and find him eyeing you suspiciously, a half-eaten donut in his hand.

“Was this you?” he asks impassively, and you hate how deadpan he sounds because it makes it all the more difficult to gauge his reaction. Feigning ignorance, you tilt your head slightly and blink at him.

“Was what me?”

“Don’t play stupid.”

“Captain, I have no idea what you’re talking about.” You smile innocently at him but he doesn’t it buy it one bit.

He shakes his head. “Of course you don’t.”

“Did you like them though?”

“Sure. So did everyone else.”

You grin and hold out your palm expectantly. “Well, aren’t you going to share?”

Allen smirks at you this time and you subconsciously swallow at the sight. He could very well be the _death_ of you, if you let him. “All out, I’m afraid. But I’m sure you have a few more surprises left for me, eh?”

With that, he winks—yes, fucking _winks_ —at you before sauntering away, leaving you flushed and more breathless than you care to admit.

* * *

Truthfully, this probably would have gone a whole lot smoother if you simply handed him the cake and left.

Instead, you insisted that everybody in the SWAT department sing to him, and through the loud cacophony of “Happy Birthday”, you wince at the death-glare he throws your way.

He refuses to blow out the candles, leaving you to do it before the wax can melt onto the icing. To your chagrin, he orders you to put the cake in the break room and scowls when you ask if he wants a piece.

All in all, you can safely say that there’s no way he’ll do anything with the voucher other than set it on fire.

Humiliated, you abandon the cake in the break room as instructed and practically sprint back to your department, taking Allen’s present with you.

You hide in the bathroom for a few minutes to compose yourself before somberly returning to your desk. You’re still shaking from the whole thing, your heartbeat pounding in your ears. It’s a miracle you haven’t run into anybody; otherwise, they’ll probably have you sent home for looking like such a mess.

That December 2nd, you find yourself staring miserably at the red envelope on your desk, containing both a birthday card for the SWAT captain and that stupid voucher you were foolish enough to think he may want.

Groaning, you bury your face in your arms. Embarrassing doesn’t even do it justice at this point. Mortifying is close, but still doesn’t quite capture how much you fucking hate yourself right now.

You’re suddenly very aware of someone hovering over you and you lift your head just in time to see a hand grab the accursed card.

Startled, you let out a distressed, “Hey! That’s mine—” before realizing that Allen is standing right behind you once again.

He opens the envelope with ease, pulling out the card and paying no mind to the horror in your eyes as you watch him. “Actually, it’s mine.”

“You won’t even want what’s in there.”

Desperately, you try to yank the card from his grip but he’s quick and sidesteps you easily. He begins to walk away, probably to read the card in peace and away from your grabby hands, and you have no choice but to watch helplessly as he suddenly halts. You can see him remove the voucher from the card and turn it sideways to read the print, and hot-faced, you immediately drop back to your seat and face your desk.

You don’t think you can bear to see him laughing at your expense, no matter how prepared for rejection you insist you are.

It feels like minutes, though it’s only seconds, before he finally returns to you.

Pained, you rub your forehead, refusing to look at him. “Just leave it here and I’ll throw it away.”

He snorts. “Why, did it expire already?”

You don’t even know what to say at this point. There’s only so many blows your self-esteem can take. At your silence, Allen waves the voucher in front of your face.

“I want to cash this in today.”

If you hadn’t heard the words yourself, you probably would have assumed you were merely hallucinating from all the blood currently rushing to your face. Instead, you slowly turn to look at the man smirking down at you, your mind reeling.

“ _What?_ ”

“After work.”

“Are… are you serious?”

For a split second, you see a flicker of worry flash in his eyes before he regains his composure and shrugs. “If you are.”

You gawk at him, mouth opening and closing like an alarmed fish. When Allen raises an eyebrow at you in question, you snap back to your senses and nod your head furiously.

“R-Right. Okay. I’ll, uh, see you after work?”

He smiles then, a genuine, pleased smile that you’ve never seen grace his face before. You fall harder, which you didn’t even think was humanly possible. “Sounds good.”

With a final grin, Captain Allen starts to walk off. However, he’s barely taken three steps when he feels a tug on his arm. Confused, he turns around, and you take this opportunity to press a kiss on his cheek.

“Happy birthday, Dave,” you whisper in his ear. You pull away and almost laugh at the shocked expression on his bright-red face as he stares at you with something that one day, you’ll recognize as love.

**Author's Note:**

> I tried to insert the image of the voucher but was unsuccessful. But if anybody wants to see it, it's at the end of this same [fic](https://thedevianthunterrk800.tumblr.com/post/180709617817/restrictions-apply-captain-allen-x-reader) on my tumblr.
> 
> Happy birthday to Captain Allen, my one true love! <3


End file.
